Somewhere Only We Know
by KikiLuvsU
Summary: Stan hasn't been the same lately, and Kyle wants to know why. A simple visit turns out to mean more than Kyle thought. Could it be the beginning of something new?
1. Chapter 1: Kyle's POV

Somewhere Only We Know

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><p><em>AN: This is my first story...yeah. Criticism welcome. I don't own South Park, or the song, "Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane. I'm not cool enough, sorry. Enjoy, I guess?<em>

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><p><em>I walked across an empty land,<em>

_I knew the pathway like the back of my hand._

I meandered slowly along a dirt trail toward the house of an old friend. I walked slowly, stopping every so often to kick a clump of dirt from my path. It had been a couple years since the trail had been used and it had some grass trying to breach the sides, but I had a plan in place to help stop that. I was heading to Stan's house, the back way.

The boy had been avoiding me lately and I wanted to know why. It didn't matter how long Stan was gone, I still missed him. One day or four weeks, it was all the same. I needed Stan beside me, laughing with me at all the strange things that tended to happen in South Park.

There was just one problem. Stan had been slowly drifting into oblivion in the past few days. After school on Friday, just a day ago, Stan hadn't even rode home with me, something he had done ever since I had gotten my license. I distinctly remembered asking Stan if he wanted to come over like every other normal weekend, but the dark haired boy had just looked at me, politely declined, then proceeded to walk out of the school to board the bus. Stan hadn't rode the bus in months. I knew why. The bus sucked ass.

That's what made no sense. What could possibly make Stan so paralyzed that he could sit on a wretched bus and not even care? I, his Super Best Friend, could drive him home. We even listened to a mix of indie rock and rap specially made for our rides home.

I had first gotten worried when Stan didn't eat his mashed potatoes at lunch on Tuesday. He had always ate his mashed potatoes, ever since third grade. Kenny had to eat the remnants off his tray that day. No one seemed to notice anything different except me. A nervous twinge had started to tickle my stomach as I thought about the warning signs. It seemed as though Stan was dangerously close to entering depression again. I'd checked with Wendy and they were still together as far as she knew.

The only thing that I could remember that had been different was the previous Monday when Stan and I had played football out in Stan's yard.

We almost never played sports together, considering that I wasn't nearly as good as him. He was roughly twenty pounds more packed with muscle than me, the lanky Jew.

After tackling each other in the yard for an hour, we'd both been covered in sweat, grass stains, and mud. Stan had offered me the chance to take a shower and I had accepted gratefully, not seeing why I wouldn't want to wash the crud off of my skin.

After thoroughly cleaning myself, I had stepped out of the shower, only to find Stan wiping his face off with a hand towel. I had tried to step back in, but Stan hadn't noticed that I was out.

He blinked his eyes open to find a shiny, still soaking wet, me in my birthday suit. Stan eyes grew large, his face went red, and he covered his face with the towel he had just used.

"Sorry man!" He apologized quickly, turning away and leaving the bathroom in a rush. I hadn't seen the big deal. Stan and I had seen each other in just underwear plenty of times before. We hadn't seen each other completely nude in a couple of years though. That explained the embarrassment. I shook my head. Stan shouldn't be worried. At least he is straight. If the role had been reversed, I would have had a much harder time dealing with the consequences of seeing the one boy you were gay for completely naked.

Besides that, nothing else had been out of the ordinary. Stan usually wasn't affected by nudeness anyway. He changed next to me and Kenny for soccer. I snuck glances every so often at Stan's bare chest when he changed his shirt because it was just too tempting, and nobody ever noticed. Stan had nothing to worry about. I should have been the guilty one.

I shook my head, getting my mind out of the gutter. Thinking about Stan had clearly disrupted my mission. I was standing in the middle of the path, in a clear open field behind Butter's house. I started to walk again, just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I knew what I would find inside Stan's house most certainly wouldn't be a happy sight. I crossed my fingers and hoped that it wasn't as bad as when Wendy broke up with him. My mind began to wander again to what I would say when I arrived at Stan's house, but I kept walking because after all, I knew the pathway like I knew the contents of my iPod, and rest assured, I knew every song in my music library.

_I felt the earth beneath my feet,_

_sat by the river and it made me complete._

I was nearing Stan's house when the path turned into sand. My sneakers sunk in, letting the sand slide in between my socks and the soles of my shoes. My eyebrows knit in frustration, considering the fact that I hated sand. I always have. I sat down in the grass beside the trail, pulled off my shoes and socks, and began to dump the small grains of sand out. I cursed at the sand as I shook my socks, reminding me of the time I had spent spring break with my four friends camping near the local river. The sand there hadn't been too bad, until Cartman had dumped a pail-full into my duffel for spite against me. I stole his marshmallow the night before. Big deal.

I had been so pissed in the morning when I found everything I brought thoroughly covered in nasty sand. I had continued in my wrath to wake Cartman from sleep, grasping his throat and gripping as hard as I could. I almost suffocated the fat bastard but Stan came up behind me and laid a hand on my shoulder, causing me to lose focus momentarily. It allowed the fatass to squirm away.

"Fuck you, Jew rat," Cartman rasped, coughing and sputtering while trying to regain oxygen.

"Don't let him get to you, Kyle," Stan had said softly into my ear. "I'll help you clean up, if you'd like."

"Thank god, because I don't think I could handle blowing every grain of sand from my belongings by myself!" I sighed, grabbing the straps to my duffel bag and slipping outside the tent.

We proceeded to take a seat by the river where we could beat the clothes against the rocks, shake the sand out, and wash everything else waterproof in the shallow water. I had ranted for awhile about Cartman's idiocy, but then we fell into a contented silence of work. I had been smiling the whole time, despite the circumstances, but Stan had that effect sometimes. The way he was so willing to help and never complained made the whole chore go so much faster. Stan had chuckled at my remarks towards Cartman while never instigating, because he knew me all too well. My heart felt so full of love from our friendship that day, but I knew there was a budding secret that was starting to appear in my heart.

No one else knew, but I had been in love with Stan for as long as I could remember. It was just toward the end of ninth grade that I started to have more need to fulfill my dream of being with Stan.

_Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?_

I put my socks and shoes back on, smiling at the memory I had just relived. I wondered where the days had gone. Stan and I had been so close back then. Where did the years go when we could be close friends without question? Now whenever we spent too much time together, everyone assumed we were gay. Stan always denied it, as usual, but I had started to wonder if Stan ever thought about if it could be true like I did. I tried to convince myself that Stan didn't, but I couldn't help but wonder. The reaction of Stan in the bathroom that Monday didn't help me find a solid answer either. I neared Stan's back door and temporarily cleared the thoughts from my mind.

_I'm getting old and I need someone to rely on._

I cracked the back door open and knocked softly. I heard a noise come from the living room and soon Sharon appeared in the kitchen.

"Oh, Kyle. Come on in, honey. Stan's up in his room. He's been up there a lot lately. I assumed he was up there with you. You been over here?" A flurry of words bombarded me as I moved completely through the doorway.

"Um, not really. I was over here on Monday," I answered as I closed the door behind me. "I haven't been here since though."

"Jeez, it's been four days, boy!" She chuckled, causing me to smile a little. "Can you talk some sense into him?" Her face suddenly becoming worried. "He hasn't been himself lately." She shook her head as she picked a dish off the counter and opened to dishwasher to put it in.

"I'll try. I noticed something different about him too. I'll go see what I can do," I mumbled as I headed off toward the stairs.

"You'd think that a teenager could handle his own feelings, but it's still like he's ten," Sharon muttered to herself, loud enough for me to overhear.

"Hey Kyle," Randy greeted from the couch as I passed through the living room.

"Hey Randy," I returned lifelessly.

I continued on up to Stan's room, stopping to kick Shelly's door on the way there. After hearing her shriek of rage from behind the closed door, I walked calmly into Stan's room. I found said raven laying on his bed with giant Skullcandy headphones on. I walked quietly behind him, all the way around to the other side, then jumped up next to him. It scared the living shit out of him, I was sure. His eyes widened more than I'd ever seen, and he'd pushed himself away quickly, causing him to roll right off the bed.

"What the fuck?" I heard him shout from the floor. I was laughing quite hard by the time I saw Stan's head pop up above the bed. "Why do you keep scaring me?" He spat while standing up. He took his headphones off, tossing them onto the floor in disgust.

"This is the first time, dude," I answered, confused. "What other time was there?" Stan cleared his throat and nodded in the direction of the bathroom. I snorted loudly. "That was your fault, my man. I was the innocent one just taking a shower." I put a hand to my chest like I was shocked. "You," I pointed, "shouldn't have been in there."

"It wasn't completely my fault. You just stood there and didn't even try to cover yourself!" Stan threw his hands up in the air.

"I'm sorry. I was too busy trying to get back in the shower to avoid being eye raped!" I sat up on my knees, holding my hands up in surrendering position. "Of course, you wouldn't have gotten such a nice look if I'd done that," I said, raising my eyebrows.

"I didn't see THAT much," he muttered, sitting back down on the bed.

"In that case," I stopped, pulling my shirt off. "You need another look to finish the mental image, don't you?" I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his middle.

"Get off of me, pervert," he chuckled, leaning backward, causing me to fall down onto the bed. He fell back too so that we were laying next to each other.

_So tell me when you're going to let me in._

"Stan, what's going on?" I asked him, bluntly. I didn't want to waste any time beating around the bush. Something was going on with him and he needed to be brought back to his lovely reality.

"It's...it-who am I kidding?" He sat up quickly, the loss of his body heat leaving me wanting more. "I'm torn."

"Um, may I ask why?" My eyebrows raised, considering the fact that Stan usually refrained from bursting out like this. He must have been thinking about it beforehand. I glanced down at his iPod, still playing the song he'd been listening to before I had pounced. All-American Rejects. He almost never listened to them anymore. Something must really be bothering him because he only went nostalgic right before he went full on Saosin. After Saosin...I don't want to go there.

"I'm falling in love with someone else," he explained, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I still love Wendy, I mean, she's all I've ever known."

"How do you know that this other person isn't just a crush?" I was becoming more and more curious at the second. If this mysterious person could pull Stan even the slightest bit away from Wendy, I could go to them for advice on how they managed to accomplish such a feat.

"How do I know? I don't know, that's just it. I just, feel-" He paused, looking back at me, a questioning look on his face. "Wait, do you even care?"

"I asked, didn't I?" I sat up to be beside him, his eyes following my every move.

"My mom put you up to this, didn't she?" His eyes changed to a sheen of betrayal.

"Well, yes,-"

"That's all I needed to know," he said, standing up and moving to the window on the other side of the room.

"That's not why I asked. I was coming over here to check on you myself." I explained quickly, trying to regain his attention.

"Nice save, but I don't believe you." He shook his head, pulling back the curtain and staring out at the fields and the nearby woods.

"Stan, you didn't eat your mashed potatoes this Tuesday," I said, standing up and heading for him. I placed a hand on his shoulder and was surprised when he didn't move away.

"You would notice that, Ky," he chuckled just a little bit, turning his head to look into my eyes.

What I saw on his face was shocking. He was a little angry, his eyebrows furrowed, but his eyes looked vulnerable and broken, and his mouth was in a slight grin still from my previous comment.

My hand slid off his shoulder as he leaned back against the window. "Can we go outside?" He suggested it out of the blue.

"Um, yeah, sure." I wasn't exactly sure why he wanted to go out there, but it wasn't a particularly bad day, so I didn't see why not.

He walked quickly out of the house, me close behind. I caught a glimpse of Sharon watching us as she wiped the counters. She had a worried look on her face, but I shot her a quick smile and she waved back. Hopefully she understood that I had the situation somewhat under control.

_I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin._

I followed Stan closely, never letting him get more than a few paces ahead of me, but I never quite caught up. He had his head down, padding through the woods at a moderate speed. He seemed to know the path quite well, contrary to me. I yawned, the lack of conversation making the effects of a late night become more apparent. I ran various conversation starters through my head, but I couldn't settle on one that wouldn't seem too intrusive on Stan's private thoughts. He seemed to not notice anything around him, not even when I tripped or cracked multiple sticks in my path. He just kept walking, weaving around branches and jumping patches of thorns.

_I came across,_

_a fallen tree._

Soon enough, we were deep into the forest near Stark's Pond and I was starting to get a little worried.

"Stan?" I called, for he was starting to distance himself farther and farther away from me.

"What?" He turned, stopping to look at me.

"Where are we going?" I asked dejectedly. He'd better have a damn good reason for us to be this far back in the woods when it was close to dark.

"Here," he called, pointed a tad to his right. There was a vaguely familiar clearing that I hadn't noticed before. I ran down the path to catch him as he brushed a few tree branches aside.

We came to the clearing and it suddenly hit me. We used to come back here to play pretend when we were in second or third grade. We imagined everything back here. Indians. Detectives. Family. A pang of want hit my stomach at the thought of the last game. If only we could be together like a family now.

In the middle of the clearing was a log, the remnants of an old tree.

"Is this the tree we used to sit on and take turns drinking from Cartman's mother's flask?" I laughed in amazement, for I already knew it was.

"Yep, it sure is. I just rediscovered it a few days ago when I wandered back here. I thought I'd show it to you while you were around. It seemed like a good place to talk." He walking over to the tree, jumping up to sit right in the middle.

_I felt the branches of it looking at me._

I walked over, about to sit up next to him when a flash of a strange pattern caught my eye. I paused, one hand on the trunk of the tree as I flicked my head to the right, looking for what I had just seen. Again, I found the pattern and I moved closer to get a better look. I traced my fingers across the pattern and found it to be a carving. It was sloppy, and the wood was slightly rotted, but I could still make out a few letters. "S & K was here," I read aloud, smiling. I remembered when Stan and I had carved that into the tree. It was the last time we had ever come back into this clearing. Cartman and Kenny had long since found better things to do on a Wednesday afternoon. It had been just Stan and me for that last year.  
>We still played games back then, but we had matured enough to be able to actually sit down and talk to each other about more important things than the fake healing properties of a particular leaf of clover like we did in our Indian game.<p>

"Kyle," he had called softly while we were walking back and forth across the newly downed tree.

"Stan," I had replied, jumping up onto a high branch before swinging down to sit beside where he had stopped. He promptly dropped down beside me.

"I think I'm in love." My eyes promptly grew ten sizes.

"With who?"

"Wendy."

"Well, duh. You guys have been dating since third grade," I laughed, partly at myself for thinking that he loved anyone else.

"We've been dating, but I've never kissed her on the lips, without puking on her at least," he added the last part remorsefully.

"So you're going to kiss her?" I looked straight at him, daring him to actually do it.

"Yep. I'm gonna do it. But...I can't." He looked away, his gaze falling to the walnut on the ground.

"Why not? You can do it. Man up," I cheered, slapping him on the back.

"Maybe I will," he laughing, his gaze traveling to me once more. "Just promise me that if Wendy and I become more serious, you won't get jealous if I have to spend more time with her."

"Why would I be jealous?" I scoffed. Preposterous.

"Because we spend every waking minute together, and that might change."

"I won't get jealous, Stan." I looked him straight in the eyes to prove my point.

"You'll always be my super best friend, Kyle. Nothing will change that."

"You're my SBF too, Stan," I admitted, smiling.

"Handshake?" He asked, putting a hand up.

"Handshake," I agreed, proceeding to do the intricate routine we had made for our title as Super Best Friends. At the end, we laughed, hopping from the branch we had been sitting on and down to the ground.

"I guess we should stop coming here. We're getting a little old for this." Stan looked around, his eyes telling me that he was as sad about leaving as I was.

"Yeah, we've grown out of it, but let's leave a marker so we can come back someday," I suggested. "Got a knife?"

"Uh, yeah, why?" He asked, digging in his pocket and pulling out a Swiss Army knife.

"Watch," I instructed, opening the blade and walking over to the tree. I carved a K into the wood where we had been sitting. "K was here," I read, blowing the bark away from my new marking.

"Don't forget me," he said, carving an S and an & sign next to my K. "STAN AND Kyle was here."

"That's not grammatically correct," I laughed, grabbing the knife from him, about to scratch it out and fix it. Stan grabbed the knife from my hand, closing it in a way that only a true knife owner could.

"Leave it. Nothing has to be perfect." He grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the tree trunk, stopping at the edge of the clearing to take one more look. "Goodbye, magic tree," he whispered.

"Goodbye," I echoed.

_Is this the place we used to love?_

"I thought I'd never see this again," I said to Stan, looking back to see his reaction to my discovery. His eyes were lit with a fire of excitement I hadn't seen since Monday.

"It's still there?" He asked, jumping down from his perch so he could come look.

"Yeah! This is so cool!" I pointed at the carving, stepping back so he could get a good look at it too.

"Awesome, dude. I never thought we'd come back here again. I didn't even notice it when I found this place two days ago." He rubbed his head, looking around, seemingly trying to find something else that would have diverted his attention and made him not notice such a distinct marking.

"Didn't you come here to talk?" I asked, jumping up onto the log.

"Oh, right," he sighed, all the happiness draining out of his face. I immediately regretted asking. He climbed up to sit beside me, rubbing his palms in his hands, brushing the rotting bark off. "I just don't know if Wendy's worth it anymore."

"She had been kind of distant and bitchy lately, if I do say so myself."

"She has, hasn't she?" His eyes squinted, as if he was trying to remember all the times she had acted out.

"But then again, so have you." I laughed to myself.

"Hey, I'm just a...jumble of feelings right now and I-I just don't know what to do about it." He struggled to explain.

"Are you going to tell me the name of this other person you are falling for or am I gonna have to guess?" I was definitely curious about who this crush worthy person was.

"I'm not even sure I can tell you," he muttered.

"What?" I was kind of hurt that he had led me out into the forest just to tell me that I couldn't know every detail.

"I'm just not sure if it's even worth telling you about. You'll only worry with me, or try to make something happen that won't be good me, Wendy, or this other said person."

"I thought Super Best Friends told each other everything?" I pouted, looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

"Oh stop it, Ky," he said, pushing my shoulder. He laughed at my face, making me giggle. At least he was laughing. "I'll tell you when I'm ready. I promise. You'll be the first to know."

"Rain check?" I smiled.

"Yep." He hopped down and I followed suit, pushing myself off the tree.

"Hey," he said, grabbing my arm before I started to walk toward the trail. "Thanks for asking about me," he smiled, his cheeks flushed just the slightest bit. He moved forward, pulling me toward him. My body instantly tensed, anticipating a tight bear hug. Instead, his face came dangerously close to mine, so close that I could feel his warm breath on my nose. He moved just slightly to the side and kissed my cheek, leaving that spot flaming. The nerve endings in that side of my face went ballistic, leaving me blushing profusely. "You're the only one who really cares," he said, pulling away, smiling at my reaction. "Race you back?"

Before I could utter a simple vowel sound, he had taken off, leaving me facing the clearing. He kissed my cheek. What does that mean? What in the hell does that even mean?

_Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?_

I had been waiting so long for him to kiss me. If only I had moved my face a little to one side. I longed to feel the fire his lips caused on mine, on my neck and every other part of my body. I had dreamed of a moment like this and it had just happened at the most random time. Why hadn't I taken in every second just a little better? How would I be able to replay such a moment when I had barely been paying attention? It was over so quickly, and I didn't have time to dwell as the sun dropped in the sky. I ran after Stan, trying to make sure I didn't lose the sound of his feet crunching on the underbrush. I would not let him get away without an explanation for what he had just done.

_And if you have a minute why don't we go,_

_talk about it somewhere only we know._

_This could be the end of everything,_

_so why don't we go,_

_somewhere only we know._

He had taken me to a place that only we had known about, then kissed me on the cheek. This could change everything. It could end everything. It could start everything. All because he had decided to take a walk in the woods. He just had to pull that stunt on me, and he had absolutely no idea how I felt about him. Or did he? Did he know and was just trying to mess with me? I was becoming paranoid as I trailed the boy through the woods.

As I burst through the outskirts of the forest and into the small field, I saw Stan opening the back door to his house. I knew he had won the race, so I stopped briefly to catch my breath. I looked back at the path. I longed to visit the clearing again, just so I could replay that moment of his lips on my cheek. I'll remember this place, of course. So would Stan. It was _somewhere only we know_.


	2. Chapter 2: Stan's POV

**AN: I don't own South Park or Talk by Coldplay. I love them both though. I don't know how good this chapter is, but I kind of liked it, so I hope you enjoy it too.**

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><p><p>

**Talk**

_Oh brother, I can't_

_I can't get through._

_I've been trying hard to reach you_

_cause I don't know what to do._

I sat in a chair by my dining room table, twiddling my thumbs. I felt the phone placed innocently in my pocket, and rolled it around while my eyes wandered across the room. I made sure that my sight never focusing on the scene right in front of me, no matter how loud it got.

I willed myself not to get involved, but even when I was looking away, I couldn't escape the yells coming from the kitchen. As the volume escalated, I couldn't turn away anymore. I let my eyes do as they wished and of course, they settled on my parents.

My mother's eyes shot a piercing glare at my father, who stood a few feet from her with an envelope in his hand. The black haired hipster begged, repeating his plea of, "Sharon!" My mother rose a hand to slap Randy across the face, but he stepped back, his stance cowardly and defenseless.

"Sharon, come on, I'll never do it again. I just...I couldn't let that car be bought by anyone else!" My father still held the thin white folded paper in his hand.

"Randy, god damn it! You always say that! First, a coffee maker, then a Margeritaville machine, then a designer jacket, then..."

She began listing the items my dad had brought home from various stores.

"We're going to go bankrupt if you don't stop this NOW!" She shook her finger in his face, making him step back even further.

"I'll stop, I promise. We just have to pay this one last bill and the-" My dad was cut off by my mom's swift slap to his cheek, an immediate red mark appearing where she'd made contact.

"I will not allow you to pay that bill with money from the family's life savings! I will not allow it! This was YOUR mistake, and YOU are going to pay for it!" My mother's face was red from anger, and she clenched her hands into fists.

"I work all day to put money in the savings account," my dad whimpered.

"So do I!" Sharon screamed, grabbing the bill from Randy's hand. She ripped it open, throwing the torn envelope to the floor. "Fifteen thousand dollars. FIFTEEN thousand dollars, Randy? Does that seem like a lot to you?"

"Um, yes?" My dad didn't seem sure that his answer was correct.

"Obviously it didn't seem that way when you were talking to the sales manager at Toyota!" Sharon stamped her foot on the ground, a large sound reverberating throughout the house. "You bought a fucking Prius, RANDY! A Prius! That you can't even afford!"

"Now don't put this all on me, Sharon," Randy finally argued back, straightening his stature as the effects of the slap wore off. "You begged me to get a more fuel efficient car and this is what I got." He pointed to the bill in her hand, its form starting to crumble under the force exerted by my mother's fist.

"This is ALL on you, Randy. You know we don't have any money!" She threw the bill to the floor, cursing under her breath.

"What did you say?" My father questioned as my mother held her head down.

"I said, you're a lying sack of shit," she admitted, an evil grin plastered across her face. "You're a lying sack of shit and I hate you."

"Don't you dare say that about me," my father warned, his tone of voice getting darker.

"You're just shit, Randy. I'm being completely truthful. We're shit broke and you're shit dumb." My mother's filthy mouth would have made me chuckle if the situation wasn't so serious.

"Sharon, shut your mouth."

"Make me!"

"I will!"

"I doubt it."

"You shouldn't."

And at that moment, I witnessed something I never thought I'd see. My father hit my mother. Hard.

My mouth was wide open in shock, my legs were paralyzed, and my eyes were staring in disbelief. My mother hit my father all the time, but never once had he retaliated.

My mother fell the the ground, blood trickling out of her nose. I knew it was broken, just by the sound. I'd had my nose broken in football before. I knew how it sounded and more importantly, how it felt.

She sat on the ground, holding her nose, her face plastered with a look of horror. She pushed herself up from the floor and immediately ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. My father picked up the crumpled paper, sighed, and then walked out the back door.

I was left, sitting in the dining room with no explanation as to what was going on. I knew we weren't the richest family on the block like the Black family, but I didn't think we were in a place like the McCormicks.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, picked Kyle's number, and sent him the first thing that came to mind.

**8:56 *SOS**

I waited five minutes, staring at the yellow walls around me as if they were the most interesting things in my life. My mother never emerged from the bathroom and my father never came back inside. I tried Kyle's number again, this time sending a more in depth message.

**9:01 *My parents got in a fight. Can you talk?**

After waiting ten minutes, I couldn't sit in silence anymore. I slowly stood up from my chair and padded over to the bathroom door.

"Mom?" I whispered, hoping that I didn't startle her.

"Stan?" Her voice cracked, and I heard movement from behind the door. "Stan, just...just go away."

"But I-"

"Stan, go to your room."

I sighed. Defeated and confused, I retreated back into the dining room, grabbing my phone before I trudged up the stairs to my room. I glanced at phone one more time, still not seeing a new message.

"Damn it, Kyle," I muttered as I flopped onto my bed. I stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what I had just witnessed. I didn't know who else to talk to. Shelly wouldn't listen to me if her life depended on it. Cartman is just a straight-up asshole. Kenny would just tell me to brush it off, since his parents beat each other up all the time. There was a difference between his parents and mine. My parents didn't do this on a regular basis. There was something going on and nobody would tell me anything.

I needed to sort out the thoughts in my head, Kyle was the only one who would listen, and he wasn't answering his damn phone. I sent him another text message, this time, a little angry.

***Damn it, this is important. Where the hell are you? I'm going to come over there if you don't answer!"**

What am I going to do?

The effects of what I had witnessed threatened to bubble up to the surface, the sting of oncoming tears burning my eyes. I swallowed them back, willing them to stay away for just a little bit longer. I had to get a response of Kyle. I can wait that long. Just a little bit longer.

_Oh brother,_

_I can't believe it's true._

_I'm so scared about the future,_

_and I want to talk to you._

What will happen?

Will my parents get divorced?

Will I be all alone?

Will my whole life get fucked up because of this one fight?

Are we broke?

Are we going to lose our house?

Will I have to eat reduced price lunch like Kenny?

Will I have to get my clothes from Goodwill?

All of my friends will leave me. They'll make fun of me like they do to Kenny. Kyle won't hang out with me anymore. Maybe he's already thinking the same thing. He's already starting to ignore me. He thinks I'm a poor whiny bitch. What will I do? He's all I have left!

I paced around my room, pressing buttons on my phone to keep the screen lit so I could see exactly when Kyle responded.

I waited a few more minutes before slipping my Converse on and heading back downstairs. My parents' bedroom door was closed and judging by the fact that my dad never came home, my mom was crying in there. I tried not to think about it as I passed on my way out the door.

I stepped out onto the porch, took one last look back through the glowing window, then trotted off into the dark.

The breeze from sprinting down the path to Kyle's felt good, like it was melting all the worries off of my face. I didn't want to arrive at his house looking like a complete wreck. I didn't really know how I looked, but I felt horrible on the inside, so I thought it would show on my face. Then again, I didn't really know why I cared about how I looked. I was just going to see Kyle. Unannounced. Well, I threatened. I wasn't sure if that counted.

I arrived at his back door quickly, grabbed a rock from the ground, and tossed it gently at his window. It made a light tap before falling back to the ground next to me. As I bent down to pick it up again, the window above me opened with a crack.

"Stan?"

"Uh, duh?" I answered, not able to think of any other person who would throw rocks at the red-head's window. It sounded so...romantic.

I removed the thought from my head. Now is not the time to be thinking about things like that.

"I texted you like three times and you didn't answer."

"My mom took away my phone," he shrugged.

He pointed to the tree next to his window, suggesting that I climb up. I walked over to the base of the tree, placed my hands on the first branch, and hoisted myself up with ease. I'd climbed this very tree so many times, it didn't seem like a challenge at all. I continued to climb through the branches until I was standing next to his window. I crawled out onto the sturdiest limb, placed one hand on the windowsill, and just as I was about to set my other hand down, Kyle grabbed it. I blushed a little at the sudden contact, but the glow from his bedroom light cast a strange glow on my face so I didn't think he noticed. He gripped my hand and pulled, helping me through the window. I swung around, landing feet first for once.

"My mom's a bitch," he muttered, picking a few stray shirts off of his bed and tossing them to the side. "Just because I got a B on the Chemistry test, she blames it on my social networking activities. That's so not it!" Kyle rambled on, kicking random objects to the side so I had a place to sit on his bed.

"So, what is it then?" I asked innocently, sitting on his crumpled sheets.

"Um, oh it's nothing. Not a big deal," he said a little too quickly, his face turning red.

"Oh, so it's something you can't tell me because you're embarrassed?" I raised an eyebrow, watching him intently.

"Um, yeah, kind of. And you're NOT going to get me to tell you," he said, pointing a finger. "That's not what you came over here to talk about. Is it? What are you here for?" He asked, and the past events hit me in a second wave of anxiety.

"Oh, right. My...my parents got in a fight," I sighed, breaking eye contact with him. I stared at the carpet, pretending to be interested in it. "He hit her. Broke her nose, I think."

"Dude," he gasped quietly, padding across the room and sitting down next to me. "Do you know why?"

"That's just it, Kyle. I don't even know why. They were just screaming about all these different things," I broke down and the words just wouldn't come out. I sobbed instead, a tear falling down my cheek. "I just sat there."

"It's not your fault, Stan."

"Yes it is. They're worried about having enough money to pay for me to go to college."

"Stan," Kyle snapped, taking his hands and turning my head to face his. I still wouldn't make eye contact. "Stan, look at me." He ordered softly. I obeyed, letting my mind find solace in his jade-green eyes as they penetrated my soul.

"This is not your fault. Nobody can predict the things that will happen. Nobody knows what your dad is going to do. Nobody knows what you or I might end up doing. You might not be able to fix this yourself. You can't fix everyone's problems. You can only deal with your own. Okay? Don't focus on them. Just be yourself."

"What if nobody likes me anymore because I can't afford to eat regular lunch or buy cool shirts from American Eagle anymore?"

"If they stop being your friend because of that, they're not worth it." Kyle sighed, a slight smile forming on his face. "Plus, you'll always have me."

_You can take a picture of something you see._

_In the future, where will I be?_

_You can climb a ladder up to the sun._

_Or write a song nobody has sung._

_Or do something that's never been done._

As soon as he said that, my heart began to beat faster. He'd never leave me. Kyle never lied. We were best friends. My whole body felt warm with the love he was sharing with me and it didn't even matter that it was just the love of a friendship.

In that moment, I wondered what it would be like to be more than friends and I didn't push the thought from my mind for once. The way he looked into my eyes, I never wanted that image to disappear. I memorized the color of his irises, the contours of his face, every curl that hung down near his face, and the curve of his lips when he smiled. I leaned closer to him and wrapped my arms around his body, embracing him without even asking. I felt him melt into my arms, letting me hug him for as long as I wanted. Finally, I pulled away, wiped the tears from my eyes, and laughed.

"What?" He looked at me with concern.

"This is why I came here. You always make me feel better," I smiled and when he saw this, he returned the favor, smiling right back.

"You know what you should do?"

"What?"

"Write a song about your parents."

"Maybe you should do the same," I chuckled to myself, imagining a song about Kyle's uptight Jewish parents.

"Cartman beat me to it, remember? Kyle's mom is a bitch?" He laughed, falling back so that he was laying on the bed beside me.

"Well, I guess you'll have to do something else that's never been done, since you always have the need to be original." I smirked, remembering all the times Kyle and I had done school projects together, always having to stay up extra late because someone else used blue glitter on their poster and we needed green instead.

"I do not!" Kyle complained. I fell back to lay beside him, turning so my head was facing him. His eyebrows were furrowed in frustration. He always got ticked when I made fun of his little quirks.

"Yes, you do. Remember last year's mid-term paper? You re-wrote it because someone else picked Thomas Edison too, from an entirely different class."

"That was important! I needed to make a good impression on the teacher. Plus, not everything I do has to be original." He scoffed, looking up at his ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars.

"Prove it," I challenged, smiling to myself for getting him so riled up.

"Fine," he said, sitting up a little.

I expected him to get up and go to his computer, but instead he turned toward me, leaned close, and pressed his lips to my cheek. My face was frozen in shock. He did NOT just do that.

His face turned beet red as he leaned back to survey the damage. My hand slowly rose to touch my cheek. He looked at me, waiting for me to react in some way.

I sat up slowly, my hand still on my face, and turned to look at him. As soon as I saw his worried face, a giggle erupted from me and soon enough I was laughing hysterically. Kyle's face got a shade darker, if that's possible. I reached a hand out and set it on his shoulder, trying to support myself as I laughed.

When I had finally caught my breath, I sighed and looked up at him.

"Well," I began. "I guess that wasn't very original, was it?" I chuckled.

"No, it wasn't. You did it to me, and I did it to you. How do you feel?" He snapped, brushing my hand off his shoulder.

"Loved," I said, matter-of-factly. Kyle's expression softened into a slight smile of relief. "More loved than I've felt in a long time, dude."

"Well, good. That's kind of what I was going for," he mumbled to himself. I smiled, because he didn't know that I could still hear him when he did that. I glanced over at his clock and it read 10:37.

"Shit, dude! I've gotta get home!" I hopped up from the bed suddenly and started for the window. I turned around to tell Kyle good-bye, but the look on his face stopped me. He looked...lonely. I paused, hand on the sill, trying to plan my next move.

"You know, you can always...stay," he suggested, patting the empty side of his double bed. "It'll be less awkward staying here than it would be going home to your parents."

I winced at the thought of confronting my parents about what I had seen, so I just walked back over to Kyle and sat down again.

"So, what do you want to do for the next half hour before your mom comes to yell at you to go to bed?" I asked, finally making actually eye contact with him.

"Oh, I don't know," he mumbled. "Wanna make some cookies?"

"We've never done that before."

"Well good. I was trying to be original," he chuckled, standing up and running for the door.

_Are you lost or incomplete?_

_Do you feel like a puzzle, you can't find your missing piece?_

_Tell me how you feel._

We stood in the kitchen, ingredients set out on the counter, and Kyle standing by the table with a cookbook in his hands. I washed my hands while he read and grabbed his mother's apron from the hook by the refrigerator.

"You're gonna need this, nerd," I chuckled, tossing it at him. Much to my surprise, he caught it without looking away from his recipe.

"It says we need to mix the dry ingredients together. The flour, baking soda, and salt," he commanded while tying the apron around himself.

"Dude, you're actually gonna wear it?" I gave him a look of disbelief. The one kid who wanted to make sure everyone knew he wasn't gay was now wearing his mother's apron. Wow. Didn't see that one coming.

"Uh, yeah. I don't want to stain my shirt. I just got it from a Yellowcard concert last week. It's signed by the band. You can't just get these anywhere," he scoffed at my ignorance and my unprotected v-neck.

He grabbed the sack of flour and started measuring out the correct amount, pouring it into a metal bowl on the counter beside him. "Stan, hand me the baking soda." My hands hovered over the group of ingredients, wondering which one to pick. "It's the white powder."

"But you already have the white powder," I complained, trying to pick each ingredient up and find the right label.

"Do I need to get into the chemistry of baking or can you just give me the baking soda? We need it."

"Found it!" I thrust it toward the sky in victory, just to have the redhead snatch it, scoop a meager amount from the carton, and then toss it back at me.

"That's it? We need that little bit of white powder? Why is that so important?"

"Why don't you ask the drug addicts the same question? I'm sure they'll tell you how great just a little bit of white powder can be," he chuckled, grabbing the salt for himself.

"I know what salt is," I said, feeling mocked just by his actions.

"Sure you do," he laughed, rummaging through the overhead cabinets to find another bowl.

"What do you need two bowls for?" I watched him closely while he measured sugar and butter into the other bowl and began to beat it.

"Why do you ask so many questions, yet do so little?" He patronized, watching me out of the corner of his eye.

"What do you WANT me to do?"

"Set the oven to 375," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Sorry, I didn't realize," I made fun of him, mocking his voice by raising the pitch. "Set the oven, get the baking soda, shine my shoes, make me a drink, neh neh neh neh neh!"

"You're a dick," he muttered while cracking eggs into the butter mixture.

"You know you like it," I cackled, making him turn his head to look straight at me. I just winked, then sauntered over to the fridge to grab a jug of milk.

Kyle got the cookies into the oven quite quickly, no thanks to me. I watched his every move, silently jealous that I didn't have as much skill as he did. I mean, it WAS cooking, but it was still cool. He was making cookies. I LOVE COOKIES!

I sat at his table, watching him work, sipping milk from a glass. He slid the cookie sheets into the oven, all the dough perfectly portioned in rows. He shut the oven door, wiped his hands on his apron, and then turned to me with a smile on his face.

"Now," he proclaimed. "We wait."

We sat side by side, watching the timer as it counted down the seconds until we could get the cookie goodness out of the oven. I bounced my leg up and down, unable to keep still. Kyle just watched me, chuckling to himself.

After a few minutes, he became silent, looking off into the distance. I noticed and turned to him instead of the oven.

"What's up?" I tried to solicit a conversation with him to alleviate his bothersome thoughts.

"Do you ever wonder if you'll ever find someone?" He kept his eyes averted when he spoke.

"Yeah, I guess, sometimes. Then I realize that what I have is just fine and I go on with life until shit like my parents happen and I need you, " I smiled at him, hoping he'd notice. I was beginning to smell the sweet scent of chocolate wafting from the oven. I licked my lips subconsciously.

"So how do you feel about finding your soulmate?"

"Um, when I find my soulmate, I'll happy? I don't know, I don't really like to think about being alone my whole life because I didn't just settle for second best when I should have."

"So you're saying that you'll probably miss your soulmate?"

"Yeah, I mean, I fuck everything up, so I'll probably fuck up the relationship with my soulmate too," I sighed at the end, looking down in defeat.

"But if you're soulmates, you'll understand each other and there wouldn't be a way to fuck it up."

"Like being best friends with someone?" His strange hope in the notion of soulmates was making me curious.

"Yeah, except best friends can break apart," he scoffed, brushing flour from his apron.

"Not super best friends," I nudged his arm, finally getting him to look at me.

"You think we'll always be together?"

"Until death do us part," I said, slapping the table and rising from my chair. I walked over to the oven, jumping up and down as the last few seconds counted down.

"You sound like you're saying marriage vows."

"Some people think we ARE married, Kyle. We hang out all the time." I laughed, spun around, and saw a glimpse of his face as he whirled around to look away. What I saw was the beginning of a very red blush.

"Should we stop hanging out so much? We are making cookies together," he muttered.

"We should definitely NOT stop. My mom doesn't make cookies for me anymore, " I sighed, reminded of my parents yet again.

"Doesn't Wendy make cookies with you? It seems like a couple-y thing to do." His face wasn't as red anymore and he asked an innocent question, but deep down it still hurt.

"No," I muttered, looking down. "I haven't really spoken to her in a while."

"Well, who cares? I made cookies and you're speaking to me, so let's eat!" He cheered as the timer beeped and he leaped from his chair.

"I'll get them!" He said quickly before I could open the oven door myself. "Always use oven mitts, stupid," he scolded, grabbing a pair from the drawer beside him and sliding them on his pale hands. He removed the cookie sheets and set the steaming treats on the counter. I reached across the counter to grab one and was promptly smacked on the hand. "Leave it, Marsh!" I drew my hand back, laughing.

"Am I a dog now?"

"Might as well be, you mangy snack stealing thief!" He smacked me lightly on the head with one mitt-ed hand. We laughed while we waited for our night snack to cool.

A few minutes later, we piled the cookies onto a plate and climbed the stairs to get to Kyle's room. We set our milk on the desk, I brought a chair up, and we put on an episode of Terrance and Phillip to watch while we dunked our cookies. Just like the good old days, we giggled at the perverted stuff we used to watch, amazed that we found it understandable when we were ten. Sheila never even came into his room to remind him to check his blood sugar, but then again she didn't need to. I did it for her.

"Kyle, test," I reminded him at 11 o'clock.

"Whatever," he blew me off at first, but then I grabbed his hand.

"You're not going to blow that off after eating five cookies. You'll literally go into a sugar coma. Go test!"

"Fine, Mom," he mocked, walking out the door and into his bathroom.

"Fool," I muttered to myself, grabbing the dirty dishes and heading downstairs to set them in the sink.

"Stan?" I heard his voice as I walked down the stairs, so I stopped in mid-step.

"What?" I hissed, knowing very well how close I was to his parents' room.

"Do you want some pajamas?"

I chuckled to myself as I ran quickly down the stairs, dropped off the dishes, and ran back up into his room. He stood with his shirt off and a pair of plaid drawstring pants on his legs.

"You want some?" He asked, holding out a similar pair in a darker color.

"Sure," I said quietly, heading over to the corner to strip down. I felt very self-conscious as I bared my chest to him, even though he wasn't really watching. He was too busy cleaning off his bed to notice that I didn't have any pants on for a split second. His cheeks were tinted a rosy pink as soon as he glanced up and saw me in his pants and without a shirt. "Yeah, I have abs," I laughed, slapping my stomach.

"You wish," he scoffed, turning away to hide his red face.

"I did," I chuckled. "And it worked."

"You want an extra pillow?" He asked, his hand on the closet doorknob. I smiled at his attempt to change the subject.

"No, I think I'll share with you," I joked, caused him to whip his head around.

"What?" He yelped, his voice rising an octave.

"I was kidding," I smirked, watching his face relax. I walked over to the closet, nudged him aside, and opened it to get a pillow for myself. "You're hopeless," I muttered, smiling at how cute he was just standing there admiring my shirtless body.

When he finally noticed that I'd insulted him, he scoffed and made a fake frowning face.

"Oh please, get in bed." I turned and hit him with the pillow right in the face, causing him to stumble backward onto the bed.

"Oh, I'm so scared. What are you going to do to me?" He laughed, grabbing his pillow.

"Beat you up!" I yelled, throwing myself and my pillow at him. He screamed, trying to scramble back, but I just tackled him. My legs were pinned on either side of his hips, so he couldn't escape, and I could attack. I raised my weapon up and began to beat him repeatedly across the face with it. I heard him laugh and yelp, but it was all slightly muffled because he kept getting mouthfuls of cotton. Suddenly, his hands reached up and he began to tickle my stomach. I instinctively crouched and when he didn't stop, I rolled off to the side, laughed so hard that my eyes watered.

"I've got you now, Marsh!" He yelled, continuing to get revenge, running his fingers all over my stomach and neck. My air supply ran out quickly and I grabbed a hold of his wrist, gripping it tightly.

"Can't breathe," I gasped, clenching my hand harder. He stopped immediately, looking at me with sudden worry.

"You okay?" He chuckled, patting my back as I tried to regain oxygen.

"Yep," I coughed, grabbing my pillow and setting it down in front of the headboard. "But we have school tomorrow, so we should get to bed." I hated to be the party-killer, but I found it easier to deal with everything when I had a few hours of sleep.

"Good idea," he agreed, grabbing his pillow from the end of the bed and placing it beside mine. He pulled the covers back and I followed suit, and we both cuddled underneath, shielding ourselves from the Colorado chill.

_Well I feel like they're talking in a language I don't speak,_

_and they're talking it at me._

Kyle fell asleep no problem, his head leaning off the side of pillow, his face toward me. The moon shone down through the window, casting a light blue glow on his soft face. His lips curved up into a slight smile, his arms holding the covers up to his chin and his red curls hanging loosely down by his eyes. My heart skipped a beat when he moved closer to me. I felt the warmth from his body radiating toward me. I had to fight so hard against myself to just pull him close.

I diverted my eyes from his face, trying to silence the urges in my mind. I wondered why I was having these thoughts about Kyle, my best friend. It is normal to feel as if I need to be near to him? I dared myself to look back at him for just a second and instantly, the feelings came back. He looked so vulnerable and childlike in his sleep. That's what it was. He looked like a child, he wasn't attractive.

I flinched. Of course Kyle was attractive. How could I deny it? I couldn't help but admire his features, up close and at a distance. I wondered if he noticed.  
>I took a deep breath, flipped on my side, and pulled Kyle toward me until his head was pressed against my chest. He instinctively settled against the curve of my body, breathing softly and letting out contented sound. The corners of my mouth curved up into a smile and my heart pounded triumphantly. This felt right. I don't know why, but it didn't feel wrong like it was supposed to.<br>What my mind considered okay and what my body wanted were two different things. My body was speaking a language that I didn't understand. It wanted Kyle. It wanted him to be closer, to hold him close and never let him go.

My mind wanted to push him away because we were only friends and if he knew what I was doing, he would never forgive me. I had dodged a bullet before when he had tried to pry information out of me, but if he caught me now, I'd have to explain.  
>The problem was, how could I explain? I didn't even know what was going on. I pushed Kyle's body away from mine in an attempt to fight back against my body, but Kyle just rolled back toward me. If he refused to budge, I didn't have a choice. I let him body heat transfer to me, breaking me out of the nervous sweat that had taken over.<p>

I sighed and readjusted my head on my pillow. It was best just to go the sleep on not worry about anything. Everything could be sorted out in the morning.  
>I listened to Kyle's breathing pattern until I slowed mine to match. Slowly, my eyelids began to droop and the world became blurry. I wrapped an arm around Kyle and fell into a dream.<p>

_Do something that's never been done._

I woke up before Kyle, as usual, still in the same position as last night. I removed my arm from around his torso slowly, trying not to wake him. He groaned and rolled away, making it easier to escape. I pushed myself off the bed and pulled the covers back up to cover him. I walked into the corner, stripped out of Kyle's pajamas, then put my clothes from last night back onto my body. I folded the pajama pants up neatly and set them at the end of his bed. I grabbed my phone from his desk and saw the time, 7:27. I had plenty of time to get home before anyone noticed.

I opened Kyle's bedroom door slowly, looked out to make sure that none of Kyle's family members were awake. When I didn't see or hear anything, I stepped out into the hallway, shut the door gently behind me, and padded down the stairs.

I walked quickly back to my house, refusing to think about what I had done last night. I had crossed the line. My feelings weren't under control. What was worse was that I had left him there to wake up alone. I never left without saying goodbye. It just seemed cruel now, after I had practically invited myself over and he had let me stay. I cursed under my breath at my mistake, but it couldn't be changed now, so I continued on.

_So you don't know where you're going but you wanna talk?_

Back in my room, wearing clean clothes and combing my hair, my phone buzzed gently on the dresser. I looked and found a new message from Kyle.

**7:45 *Where did you go?**

I sighed. I should have known that he would question my strange behavior.

**7:46 *I had to get home before someone noticed I was gone.**

It seemed like a valid excuse. Really, I didn't think anyone would have cared if I hadn't returned. The house was quiet except for Shelly in the bathroom taking a shower.

**7:47 *Oh.**

**7:48 *You never told me what you made you get a B.**

I directed the conversation back to him in an attempt to free myself of guilt. I didn't like lying to him, but he could never know how I was starting to feel about him.

**7:49 *Well, I've been over-analyzing stuff lately.**

**7:50 *What's that supposed to mean?**

**7:51 *I've got feelings for someone and I can't help but over-think things every time I say something.**

My heart stopped beating for a few seconds. Kyle was finally starting to notice girls. I can't believe it. Just when I had started to develop feelings for my best friend, he decides to stare at girls. I grimaced and sent him a message anyway.

**7:52 *I've sure if you just say what you feel, it'll be the right thing.**

**7:53 *I'm not sure that I can.**

**7:54 *Then you don't deserve it.**

I threw the phone into my backpack, slung the bag over my shoulder, and stormed out of my bedroom. Nothing was going right. My phone buzzed through the bag and I couldn't help but pull it out. Maybe he was going to take everything back.

**7:57: *Dude, are you okay?**

**7:58 *No.**

Of course I'm not okay. My parents got in a fight and my mother got abused. I'm having gay feelings for my best friend, who just now decided to be straight. My life isn't going well at the moment. I didn't know what to do. The one person I could always go to had now become a problem. I felt lost.

I stood outside by my car, looking off into the distance. I didn't know where to go. I was supposed to go to school, but my legs wouldn't move. My hands wouldn't reach out to unlock the car door. I gripped the car key so hard that it started to make indentations on my palm.

_And you feel like you're going where you've been before._

I turned and started to walk away, down the sidewalks and away from the neighborhood. Keeping my head facing the ground, I wandered, not sure where I was after a few minutes. It wasn't until I heard loud footsteps behind me that I looked up and became aware of my surroundings.

"Stan!" Kyle was running toward me, waving his hands in an attempt to catch my eye. I looked to my left and recognized the place where we had waited for the bus for so many years. I wondered why my legs had brought me here. Lately, it seemed like my body wasn't connected to my mind.

"What do you want, Kyle?" I asked, turning around to face him.

"I want to know what's wrong." He stopped in front of me, panting. He threw his school bag to the ground, letting it slam down on the sidewalk.

"Maybe I don't know."

"I just want you to talk to me."

"Maybe I'm all out of words." I turned away and continued walking. I looked back and saw his green eyes staring right back. Hurt was apparent on his face, his eyebrows knit in confusion.

"What did I do?"

I stopped in my tracks. The fragile tone of his voice made my heart flinch. I had hurt him in my blatant ignorance.

"Nothing, Kyle. You didn't do anything._ Nothing's making any sense at all._ Just let me think things over for a while." I raised my eyebrows, waiting for him to understand or disagree. He just nodded and looked down.

"When you figure things out, I'll be waiting." He looked up, picked his bag from the ground and turned back toward the bus stop. "If you need a ride, I can come pick you up."

"I'll be alright," I sighed and started to walk again.

"Okay," I heard him mumbled as I distanced myself from him. How I had to strength to pull myself away and not run back and apologize, I didn't know. I convinced myself it was for the best. He would never feel the way that I did. I was a fool for falling in love with him. The only times I had been in love, I ended up getting hurt. I vowed to never let myself near him again so I wouldn't have to deal with the problem.

I gave in a week later, when the screaming started again. I was on my bed doing homework. My mother and father were in an argument, yelling and slamming things around. I got up to shut my door and saw Shelly peering out from her doorway, looking toward the staircase. She turned her head to look at me and what I saw made my stomach clench in worry.

She had tears in her eyes. My sister never cries. It was against the laws of nature for a heartless beast like her to feel sadness. I blink a couple times to make the illusion go away, but when I returned her gaze, the glaze of tears was still there.

"Shelly," I whimpered, but she suddenly jumped back, slamming the door behind her. I walked out into the hallway, nearing the staircase where I could eavesdrop.

"I'm moving out, Randy. I've had enough!" My mother shouted.

"Go ahead, Sharon. It's not like I give a shit!"

"I hate you!"

"Not as much as I hate you!"

"I can't believe I married you!"

"If you can't believe it, maybe we should get divorced!"

"Maybe? It's already decided. We are no longer married, Randy. I'll pack my things." My mother came storming up the stairs, her face red and her eyes ablaze with a fury I rarely saw.

"Stanley, go put your favorite things in a box. We're moving out." I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. "You have until 4 in the morning. Get a move on it." She walked away, stopped at the closet to pull out two cardboard boxes. "Take this," she said, throwing it at me. It landed at my feet and I didn't move to pick it up.

I stood in the middle of my room, looking at all of my possessions, trying to gauge which items were worth taking. I looked over at my phone, thinking the one thing I shouldn't. Text Kyle. My mind screamed, "No!" My body screamed, "Yes!" Guess which one was the victor.

**8:57 *Let's talk.**

When he didn't answer, I dialed his number. _Let's talk_, Kyle. It's what you wanted, right?


End file.
